“Oh, you were finished. Well then, allow me to retort.”

[Yes folks, it's Mrs. Toad. Apparently my ramble about Toploader didn't go down all that well in certain circles. She's not disputing the Toploader hatred of course, that would be divorceable.]

Having been affronted by the accusation that a person in position of a fanny (thats erm.. snatch or mimsy to Americans and front bottom to weirdos) must be in want of a Toploader album, I come to redress the gender balance.

Yes, women lose the musical plot when confronted with flashing lights, a pile of handbags and a gullet full of Lambrini but that is nothing, nothing to what happens to a man, sober and in posession of a car.

I present in evidence a sample from the playlist of Top Gear Anthems. More Than a Feeling by Boston, Turn it On Again by Genesis, Bat Out Of Hell by Meatloaf. Yes, faced with the prospect of an afternoons driving, the average middle aged, middle class bloke celebrates the freedom of the open road by listening to pisspoor stadium rock. Driving holiday through the Alps? Perhaps a little Whitesnake to get those hairpin bends flowing. A long night motoring across country? Kick back with a spot of Steppenwolf.

Now, most blokes would agree that the Top Gear crew are a Great Bunch Of Lads but inclined to take the piss. Perhaps a more reliable source? The “Original Rock Driving Album” fails to support the case for the defence weighing in with luminaries of the piss poor such as Simple Minds, Bryan Ferry and Pat Benatar. Enough indeed to support the fact that a large part of the adult male population is driving around their Vauxhall Vectras tapping out Phill Collins drumbeats on the steering wheel and wishing that they had the balls (and hair) to sport Joey Tempest perms instead of a combover.

Psshaw, you say, that’s not me, thats guys my dad’s age! Yeah, true. That’s because blokes your age are driving lowered suspension Nissan Micras round town all night (with green neon trim, ooo-er!), sitting practically on the back seat so they can pretend they are in a race car. The Burberry cap is akimbo, the Elizabeth Duke bling is shining and the spliffs are go. The 200 decibel refrain of “Dubbishdubbish tink tink Dubbishdubbish tink tink awahuh awahuh” rents the night like a cut price jump jet as these cretins rev their 1.1 litre engines and conduct abortively unimpressive wheelspin starts from traffic lights. Fuck me, Lewis Hamilton must be jealous.

Now thats two extreme examples, simple stereotypes you say. Well fine, lets have the more middle of the road guy, maybe had a good year last year, bought a little Boxster with future dreams of a 911 or perhaps a BMW Z4. He likes to drive around with his lady, top down, nice sweater tied around his neck THAT way, maybe some driving shoes and god forbid.. gloves. Whats this with it cat likely to play? Hmmmm, yep Jamiroquai, Chris Rea and maybe rock out a bit… Stereophonics? You know this guy because he has probably brake tested you when he fucks up, driven up your backside flashing his lights and undertaken your ass on the motorway. He’s a cunt.

The ONLY men who listen to good music in cars, have shit cars. This is less observation than a law of nature. The minute a man shows any interest in cars or driving for drivings sake he is doomed to musical cuntery (Mr Toad would like to intercede to say he has a good car therefore this is bollocks. He doesn’t, its a 35year old Volvo with no stereo and a leaky fuel tank. I rest my case)

And these car guys are on their own, they have no-one egging them on, they aren’t pretending to enjoy themselves as many a woman bobbing along to Toploader is. There is no peer pressure. They wake up and go to sleep twats with bad music taste and theres lots of them out there, driving around. Its enough to make you wish Woolies sold RPGs.

At least when I and other women wake up hungover after having sullied ourselves by being on a dance floor when Toploader came on, we feel guilt and self loathing. These guys just get in the car and crank up the shitty tunes again, be it Billy Idol, Billy Ocean or Carl Cox.

So fuck you boys, I’d rather have Toploader pished than K-Tel sober.

Chris Rea – The Road To Hell
Retort for the boys: The Wedding Present – Drive